


Absolution

by WarpedChyld



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Bottom!Hannibal, Knives, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possible spoilers for Dolce sorta, Yes you read that right, dark!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedChyld/pseuds/WarpedChyld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t!” The voice at his ear hissed. “You get to say nothing, Hannibal.” His name was punctuated by a sharp roll of Will’s hips against him and he felt an answering throb go through his body.</p>
<p>So. It was to be this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Oodles of thanks to my platonic murder husband [Marz](mresundance.tumblr.com) for giving it a once over and endless encouragement. 
> 
> Also for calling Hannibal an asshole and a drama queen. :D

 

“I forgive you.”

 

When he had first heard the words, Hannibal had felt elated. He had felt redeemed. He had felt damned. He had felt like hugging Will close to him, inhaling his scent, replacing their last hug with a far more pleasant memory.

 

He had feared.  Feared it was a trap, a lure. Feared Will was trying to fool him.  He would not be fooled twice. With determined movements he had silently strolled away, planning his next move.  There had still been a lightness in his heart, his steps, as he left Will amongst the dead once more.

 

When he saw Will walk into the museum, all those feeling came rushing back. Fear, elation, fear, redemption, damnation. Fear.  Subtly he drank in the scent of the man, the tiredness, the exhaustion, the happiness. Blood; that smell Hannibal knew intimately. There was another scent underneath them, faint, one he had occasionally gotten hints of from Will back in Baltimore. It brought to mind the musty oiliness of raven’s feathers and the rangey, wild musk of deer.

 

Seeing Will smile at him had been like seeing the rain after a drought, refreshing, promising life to a blighted place. Even now, with the rough brick of a wall against his cheek, the finely honed “forgiveness” Will pressed to his neck, Hannibal felt more alive in what he knew could be his final minutes of life than he had the entire year previous.

 

The blade cut into his skin, pressed under his jaw right at the jugular. One careless move on either of their parts and he would be dead, bled out as easily as Abigail.  He could appreciate and accept that as a fitting end. Any death by Will’s hand would be appreciated and accepted.

 

Harsh breaths from the man behind ghosted over Hannibal’s neck, making him shiver and even that slight movement caused more blood to bloom and slip down his neck.  He heard Will groan and Hannibal felt the rough stone scrape his cheek as he was pushed tighter against the wall. Will held the knife steady even as he nosed at Hannibal’s neck, drawing in the scent of blood. Hannibal gave a small jolt as he felt Will’s tongue lap gently at one of the crimson streaks and he felt his lips turning up in a ghost of a smirk.  Either Will was really enjoying himself, or had another weapon on him, one that he was rutting against Hannibal.

 

“Will..” he began then stopped as the blade moved forward, elongating the shallow slice to just over his Adam’s apple.

 

“Don’t!” The voice at his ear hissed. “You get to say nothing, Hannibal.” His name was punctuated by a sharp roll of Will’s hips against him and he felt an answering throb go through his body.

 

So. It was to be this.

 

Careful to keep his face neutral, he took a deep breath and let his body go lax, let Will see he would not fight him on this. Even if everything inside him that had fought and clung to life since that long ago day was roaring in outrage, he would give Will this.  He would let Will give him this.

 

A sure hand made quick work of his belt, pants and boxers shoved down just enough before Hannibal heard Will start working on his own. The knife was still pressed snug, not that Hannibal had any intention of moving. He idly wondered if anyone would catch them, but the alley Will had shoved them into was secluded.  Mouth opened, he decided to push, just a little, just to see what Will would do with his deliberate disobedience to remain silent.

 

Instead of a pointed question, what came out was a surprised sound, a sound he refused to classify as a whimper, as the blade dug in a little deeper. Not enough to be deadly, but enough. Enough to warn. Enough to draw a fresh spill of blood, searing hot down his neck. Enough to coat the fingers he felt Will place there. Not enough to stop the burn of Will thrusting the fingers into him, slicked only with his own blood.

 

Hannibal had boundless rooms in his mind palace. Rooms filled with memories and mementos he found beautiful and soothing. Rooms he could have sought refuge from the pain. Hannibal refused.  He had Will and he was going to savor everything. Every painful thrust of his fingers. Every sting of the blade pressing in. Every fission of pleasure when those finger brushed that spot in him. Hands braced on the wall in front of him, Hannibal pressed back against Will in silent encouragement.  

 

He felt more than heard Will's growl. Felt Will shift and fumble behind him. Felt the fingers pull out, too rough, and something larger thrust in even more roughly. There was no mercy afforded, no time for him to adjust. Will set a brutal pace, his mouth pressed to Hannibal's shoulder, breath hot and damp through the thick coat and shirt. It was too much, too fast.  It burned and tore, seared him from the inside out. Hannibal could have wept for the joy of it.

 

Hannibal kept silent though he felt moans building just under his jaw and tried to take Will deeper. The thrusts were becoming erratic, Will’s breathing growing harsher, more ragged and Hannibal knew he was close. He tightened himself to encourage--and revel in-- the sounds Will was making. Little groans and pained whimpers as if he were the one being fucked raw and flayed open.  Hannibal wondered if he was. That thought was enough to make a small groan escape even Hannibal's iron control and he reached down to his neglected cock.

 

Immediately Will stilled, the blade pressing again.

 

“No...no this is not for you.”  It almost sounded like he was crying.

 

“Isn’t it, Will? Isn’t this my atonement for my sins against you? Are you not absolving me of them?”

 

Will gave a broken sound and abruptly pulled out, spinning Hannibal around and slamming his back against the wall before putting the blade back at his throat.

 

Hannibal actually had a moment of wondering if he pushed Will too hard, if he would kill him outright.  His Will, ever so delightfully unpredictable lifted one of his legs, still trapped in the confines of his pants and pressed forwards. The angle was awkward but Will managed to bury himself back inside, the force finally drawing a slightly pained sound from Hannibal.

 

Will grinned, the same zealousness in his eyes of an Inquisitor punishing a heretic.

 

Hannibal had never seen him look so beautiful.

 

The pace this time was even more punishing, Will keeping Hannibal pinned with his eyes as much as he had him pinned with cock and blade. Hannibal took it all with same grace and eagerness as a martyr being led to the pyre.

 

One last deep thrust and Will stilled, groaning what sounded like Hannibal’s name as he emptied himself into the other man.  He collapses forward, face pressed to the base of Hannibal’s throat, Hannibal felt the harsh breaths, the thundering heartbeat pressed so close to his own slightly elevated one and tamped down the urge to runs his hand through the chocolate curls brushing against his chin.

 

He was hard.

 

He was sore.

 

He was a mess.

 

He had never felt more content.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Absolution: noun  
> 1\. act of absolving; a freeing from blame or guilt; release from consequences, obligations, or penalties.
> 
> 2\. state of being absolved.


End file.
